Chapter 47

Chapter 47

We arrived at a vast property, stretching out into the distance with wide, open fields that seemed to go on forever. Rolling grass spread in every direction, kissed by the fading light of the sun and the whisper of the wind. But it was eerily empty.

“Why is this place so empty?” I asked as I got out of his car and walked around to his side. We started walking deeper into the property, our hands brushing against each other.

“Because Rhett doesn’t give a crap about this place. I’m actually the only one who comes out here when I have the time,” he said, leading us toward a horse pen. There were at least five horses inside, though I can't remember exactly.

An elderly man approached us. “Brant!” he called.

Brant turned with a smile and gave him a quick hug. “How are you, Jimmy?”

“Fantástico,” Jimmy replied.

A majestic horse walked toward us and stuck its head through the fence. Brant gently caressed its muzzle. “Get him ready,” Brant said.

Then he turned toward me and took my hand. His touch sent a tingle through my chest. Without a word, he pulled me gently along as we began walking.

We were quiet for a while, lost in the sounds of the breeze and distant horse snorts, before I broke the silence. “Why get one horse ready? I want to ride too.”

“You’re riding with me,” he said simply.

“Why? I can ride,” I protested. I did know how to ride a horse.

“Because I want you to feel my cock while we’re riding,” he said with that shameless grin of his. “Every bump, every trot — I want you thinking about me the whole damn time.”

I looked at him, incredulous. His smile didn’t fade, clearly enjoying my reaction.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I told you I’m very believable, little minx,” he replied.

We stopped when he sat on the grass. I looked around and realized how far we were now — from the horses, from Jimmy. We were alone. Just Brant Paxton and me. Just us. If I had to scream, no one would hear me.

He looked up at me. “Sit down,” he said.

Well, I trusted him enough to come here with him, so I trusted him to do whatever he wanted. I sat down beside him, and he lay back. I followed, resting my head on his chest.

We stayed like that for a while, just the silence between us, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the quiet sync of our breathing. The wind rustled through the grass, and somewhere far away, a bird called. But in that moment, his heartbeat was the only sound I cared about. It was all I needed.

His hand slowly caressed my head, fingers threading gently through my hair.

“Don’t you just love this?” he murmured. “If it were only us… and our fucking feelings.”

I nodded, raising my head to look at him. He looked so damn handsome, and when he smiled, it was so natural that his dimple appeared, softening his usual smugness. I could see why girls lost their minds over that smile.

“What are you doing to me, Sable?” he asked, that same question that always made my bruised heart stir in a way that both scared and thrilled me. It twisted something deep in my chest, like a wire being pulled tighter and tighter. Because the truth was… I didn’t know. I could just as easily ask him the same damn thing.

“What are you talking about?”

“I used to survive,” he said. “Then you came, and now I want more…”

“More?”

“More than just breathing. More than getting through the day. More than blood, deals, races, gambles… and all the bullshit I used to think mattered.”

I tried to keep my face neutral, but my heart was skyrocketing with something dangerously close to joy—dizzying, breathless joy that made my chest feel too small for how much I felt. It felt like I might burst open from the inside. My throat ached with the effort not to smile too hard.

“And I want to fuck you senseless,” he added. “Have my cock buried so deep inside you and just stay like that for the rest of my shit life, until I forget what loneliness feels like. No more pretending, no more games. Just you. Just us. A raw, messy kind of forever.”

My body responded before my brain could catch up, heat flashing through my chest and settling low...

“What if I told you I want you to tie me up to your bed… gag me… mark me so hard everyone sees who I belong to?” I whispered, my voice barely audible, thick with desire, our faces so close now that our mouths were practically touching. I wanted to close the distance, ached to brush my lips against his—not like the kiss that happened in his bedroom. This one would burn.

It would taste like possession.

He groaned low in his throat.

“I would love that, little minx,” he breathed, his voice hot against my lips.

My heart slammed against my ribs, erratic and desperate. My skin tingled, sensitive to every molecule of air between us, and a shiver ran through me—straight from the base of my neck to the throb between my thighs.

My clit ached with want, craving the touch I knew he could give. His words, his gaze, the promise in his tone—it was overwhelming in the most addictive way. Brant Paxton was becoming addictive to my soul.

I swear he was about to kiss me—right there, right then—when we heard Jimmy’s voice in the distance and the sound of the horse’s hooves.

I pulled away reluctantly, chest heaving, and looked up, the spell between us broken. But the need? That stayed. It roared.

Brant sat up, then stood. “Thank you, Jimmy!”

We walked to Jimmy and the horse. Jimmy handed over the reins and walked away.

Brant scooped me up effortlessly, helping me mount the horse. Then he climbed up behind me. His arms slid around me as he took hold of the reins.

And what he said earlier came rushing back to me as we rode—how I’d feel his cock while we rode. And I did. It was pressed right up against my ass, thick and hard. It sent another heat crawling up my spine, making it nearly impossible to focus.

But what really messed with my head was the way his arms caged me in on either side. Without that pressure—without him wrapped around me—I might’ve fallen off the horse beneath us. His closeness was intoxicating, and the tension coiled tightly between my thighs.

“Do you feel how hard I am for you? Just from being pressed against you,” he murmured against the nape of my neck, his breath hot and tinged with want. It sent goosebumps racing across my skin.

I fucking needed Brant’s touch like air.

We continued riding, the field stretching endlessly until it gave way to a grove of trees. We slowed as we passed into the shade.

That’s when I saw it.

An old tree stood ahead. It was different—barely any leaves, bark scarred with an old carving. My eyes locked on it. A heart, etched deep into the trunk. And inside it—names. The second I read them, something sharp and hot stabbed through my chest.

It was like my heart tried to rip itself out of my bloody ribcage.

“Stop!” I cried.

“Why? We can’t stop here,” he said, surprised, pulling slightly on the reins.

“No. We have to,” I insisted.

He didn’t understand why, but he brought the horse to a stop. I dismounted in a rush, nearly stumbling as my feet hit the ground. I could hear him behind me, dismounting too, but I didn’t care. I ran toward the tree, my vision blurring as my pulse thundered in my ears.

When I stopped in front of it, I already knew their relationship was real—but seeing this tree confirmed everything.

The carving was still visible, and it wasn’t just the heart. It was the handwriting. Written in her fucking handwriting—I’d recognize it anywhere. I could recognize it in my sleep. That delicate curl at the end of each first letter, like she thought she was writing a love song.

Their love song.

Brant. Jessica. Always & Forever.